


Incarnadine Dreams

by eerieryoko



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Mental Instability, No Fluff, Non-Canonical Violence, Not Happy, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerieryoko/pseuds/eerieryoko
Summary: Yuuri dreams of silver...and red.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingsofGold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsofGold/gifts).



> This is NOT a happy fan-fic. This is very non-canon,and delves deep into the mind of someone with severe mental illness. This is your TW.  
> This is also very different from my usual type of writing, if you have any critiques or suggestions please feel free to comment below or send me a message on Tumblr!
> 
> This is my Secret Santa YOI Discord Server gift for my lovely Lady Lana. <3
> 
> Big, big hugs and mucho amor to my lovely beta's Won & Luo. I love both of my husbando's very much, and thank you very much for all of the lovely comments along the way. c:

_Silver hair, speckled with red._

 

_Darkness. Low fog sits on the streets. There’s a man gasping and crying nearby._

 

_He runs, and runs, and runs; but his legs won’t move fast enough and he’s too late._

 

 _He’s always_ **_just_ ** _too late._

 

Yuuri sat up in bed, grasping the sheets with one hand and fumbling for his glasses with the other.

 

He’d been having these dark, anxious dreams for years- as long as he can remember. He flips open a journal, scribbling furiously.

 

At age 10 he decided a dream journal might help him connect the dots, might help him put the pieces of this jumbled puzzle together.

 

Months slip by, the nightmares becoming fewer, more sporadic and less worrisome. He huddles around the television with Yuuko.

 

They’re enraptured by the dance before them- dance more so than a simple skating program, since the way Victor and the ice come together is definitely a well-practiced tango.

 

Yuuri sighs as Victor comes to a stop, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

 

Yuuko shakes his shoulders, speaking quickly in that excited high-pitched way she does. Yuuri grins. His eyes follow the slender skater on the screen as he exits the ice.

 

\---

 

_Something soft. He skims his hand over fur._

 

_There’s no sound. No movement._

 

 _Something’s wrong. Very,_ **_very_ ** _wrong._

 

_There’s wailing in the distance. He panics, running away._

 

 _The wailing gets louder, and louder. Impossibly_ **_louder_** _, until he’s sure someone’s right behind him._

 

Yuuri’s eyes open, his chest heaving, his throat sore. He was screaming, crying at Vicchan in his dreams. Except things were different, darker, twisted.

 

Vicchan died in his sleep, like old dogs do.

 

Nothing bad had happened, nothing like what his mind tries to tell him.

 

Yuuri blinks and silver hair flashes behind his eyes.

 

Victor.

 

He sighs. He finally had the chance to prove to Victor, to prove to this shining silver man, how skilled and deserving Yuuri was of sharing the ice with his idol.

 

However things did not go as planned, as usual.

 

There’s only a few months left before he’s done in Detroit. He’s decided to go back home and….and….

 

He’s not entirely sure.

 

However, he does know that he’s not done chasing the silver that’s plagued him for years. _Years._

 

One day he will hold that fine silver between his fingers, unlike his dream where he’s always _too late._

 

\---

 

_“There’s a nice foreign man in the onsen,” his father says, smiling._

 

_A large version of Vicchan pants beside him, bumping into his legs._

 

_He keeps trying to speak, but the words won’t come out._

 

_Why can’t he wake up?_

 

_His mind has played enough tricks on him._

 

Yuuri continues to balk, blinking. He _is_ dreaming, right?

 

He turns and runs, hoping he isn’t too late this time.

 

He crashes through the door, standing stupidly on the other side of the threshold. There he is, a towel draped around his neck and his pale skin flushed from the warmth of the water.

 

“Ahh, Yuuri~” The silver man stands, extending his arm out.

 

“I’m going to be your coach!”  
  
  
Yuuri has half a mind to reach out and feel around for his dream journal, however he hasn’t even recorded any of his dreams in the last few years. He doesn’t necessarily want to remember how cruel his unconscious has proven to be lately.

 

Is this real? Victor is before him, fine and healthy, no red, no fog, no darkness.

 

He sighs.

 

\---

 

_“Yuuri, sleep with me!”_

 

 _Sleep? This is not sleep. This is anything_ **_but_ ** _sleep._

 

_Silver is woven through his fingers._

 

_All he sees is pale skin. He’s surrounded by it. Enveloped. He welcomes it, leaning down to lick some of the sweat pooling in the dip of Victor’s shoulder blade._

 

_Salt. The salt is very real, the heat in this room is real, the soft whimpers coming from the man beneath him, they are all very real._

 

_Right?_

 

_He thrusts, deep, deep down into the heat around him._

 

_More whimpers, more heat, more pale, pale skin._

 

_His hand releases the silver, the long sought after silver. Moving down, down, down, enclosing around a delicate neck._

 

_He squeezes._

 

_The whimpers stopped long ago, as did his thrusts, and he sees red._

 

He decides to start writing in his dream journal again.

 

Maybe...maybe he should start taking those pills again

 

\---

 

“Yuuri, again. Think of your eros, your katsudon!”

 

Victor claps his hands together, that cute smile painted on his face.

 

Yuuri complies. Again and again, over and over, only for Victor. Only for silver.

 

He focuses on his program, and not on the red that's been plaguing his unconscious thoughts.

 

If he focuses enough, maybe the red will disappear. He hopes.

 

He sighs. Sweat rolls off his forehead and falls to the ice. For a moment it flashes red and he startles. Did he cut himself?

 

But no. It’s clear again, just sweat.

 

He decides against taking the pills. He’s not that weak, not yet.

 

\--

 

_There’s the pale skin again._

 

_Sweat, clear not red. No red. Not this time._

 

_Silver pools on the pillows of the hotel bed._

 

 _His hand reaches out for it- no, for that thin,_ **_delicate_ ** _neck._

 

“Ahh, Yuuri~”  
  
  
Oh, he’s not dreaming.

 

He never hears his name in his dreams. He is a mere bystander to the visual portrayal of his innermost desires.

 

He goes for Victor’s shoulder instead, grabs it, thrusting and picking up his pace.

 

Victor sighs, moans, whimpers.

 

The whimpers.

 

Red seeps into Yuuri’s vision again, but he clenches his eyes shut and focuses.

 

He needs to focus, to win. Focus for Victor, right now. Focus for silver.

 

Moments pass, Yuuri never stuttering in the rhythm his hips have set as he drills Victor into the mattress.

 

It’s not as erotic as his dreams, it’s just not enough.

 

Regardless, Victor cries out one last time and unravels under Yuuri as he stills.

 

Victor turns, smiling. “I knew you had stamina, but my~ Yuuri.”  
  
  
  
Yuuri chuckles, sighs.

 

“Something on your mind?”

 

He’s throbbing, still deep inside Victor, waiting for permission to continue.

 

But he’s just not focused enough, red teasing in and out of his vision.

 

\---

 

_“I’m sorry it’s not the gold you wanted.”_

 

 _“Shame. I said I’d only kiss gold, remember? You’ll just have to try harder next time.”_  
  
  
  
A wink.

 

_But he’s got silver, and that’s all he’s ever wanted._

 

_Hours pass. It’s cold outside. Dark, foggy._

 

_Somewhere along the way he’s become alone._

 

_There’s a man screaming, gasping in the distance._

 

_Silver. Red._

 

 _He runs. Will he make it this time? Or will he come in second,_ **_again_ ** _?_

 

 _No._  
  
  


_He’s made it._

 

_There’s his silver, standing tall, a broad smile on his face._

 

 _“I couldn’t get you gold,_ Yuuri.”

 

His breath catches. Isn’t he dreaming? Silver? Red?

 

“But I brought you something...maybe something better.”

 

Victor steps aside, into the shadows the alleyway casts around them. Becomes almost entirely obscured by the thick, thick fog.

 

Yellow. No, blonde.

 

Bound and gagged, and glaring ferociously at Yuuri.

 

“You’ve brought me a pet?”

 

Victor laughs, and Yuuri’s heart skips. Oh, he’s in love.

 

He could never hurt his silver, his Victor, especially not now. Not with this fine little kitten all tied up and presented so nicely.

 

“I was trying to think of what to get you, to celebrate for your win. And I gathered some ideas from your journal.”

 

Victor’s approaching him now, one slender finger running under Yuuri’s jaw. He catches his gaze, holds it steadily as the words sink in.

 

Victor leans in, lips just brushing Yuuri’s ear. A shiver runs down his spine, nerves alight.

 

“Let’s see red, together?”

 

Victor reaches down to link their fingers together. Yuuri let’s him, and nods.

 

Sharing….sharing with his silver. His silver speckled with red, red, red.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me love/hate as you see fit.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://s-ierra.tumblr.com)


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